It never rains in Southern California
by lenouchka
Summary: "[...] She has had a free pass from the start and she doesn't even know about it. But since she's Veronica Mars she probably will extort that information from him at some point. "- a quick peek into Logan's mind (Oneshot - Post season 3 finale)


Sometimes Logan Echolls is amazed at his own self-destruction instincts. He looks at Veronica and he thinks he might just love her because she represents the worst of himself. The reason she is who she is, the reason of her insecurities, her distrust is him. Partly, at least. He couldn't have loved bubbly cotton dress Veronica, but her gritty dry post-fallout version he could. He feels guilty for loving a girl he feels he broke. And for leaving her and for taking her back and for screwing things up again.

Logan throws the can of beer out the window. He is a little buzzed and a little giddy. Today is Election Day at the sheriff's office. It's raining outside. It never rains in southern California. Maybe it's a sign, maybe things change. Maybe it's just polluted clouds shooting dirty water out of the skies. Maybe Veronica and him will make it in one piece or two or three (just no more pieces than they already are in). Maybe they'll destroy each other 'till there is nothing left but dust.

Maybe he will become an airplane pilot. Maybe Keith will rule Neptune. Maybe Dick will have is own TV show.

Not that it matters, his decision was made long ago.

He isn't as thick as he pretends but Veronica prefers the oblivious act and so does he. Denial is comfy, you know. He's seen her wake up with a shrill and then go really quiet, he has seen her go rigid in his arms for no apparent reason, and he has seen her chasing rapists around town without a single care for her own safety. And Logan Echolls knows a thing or two about death-wishes. And nightmares, too.

That year after Lilly died, he can't even think about it. It's all a fog really, or so he tells himself. He waged a war on a fifteen-year-old, the kind of war you see when you study PR relations in politics, a war of image and self-esteem. A war of humiliations and of eroding your opponent confidence until they cry, they leave the room, they cave, they hurt themselves. He's a recovering bully that's for sure.

As far as booze comes that's another story. Baby steps and all that. And he chuckles as he downs his beer. Christ, beer is good. It goes so well with the dry heat of California, cool liquid golden. It's nourishing too and that's nice. He figures it's like a meal of some kind. Spares him the effort of calling room service. A history teacher once told the class how in Czech Republic during WW2 they advertised beer as a replacement for some of the rationed food. Somehow, that stuck.

He thinks if she can still manage to love him after that then maybe he's worth something. She's his redemption. If _she_ can forgive him, when he so deeply believes he's unforgivable then maybe, just maybe he is deserving of happiness and love and all that bullshit.

He is not sure he believes her though. She says she has forgiven him but she hasn't really and he can't even blame her. He pretends to, once in a while. He decides to go all Dr. Phil-love-thyself-empowered boy and cuts himself off, breaks-up with her. Decides trust wins over love.

He's not fooling anyone now, not even himself. By now he has understood he's a sucker for pain. Thanks, daddy. He will come back to her. If she can't love him, then he really is a piece of shit that deserved everything that ever happened to him. And let me tell you, the list is extensive so that soap-operas pale in comparison. The thought is funny to him. So fucked-up so young, how is his life not straight from a bad TV show? In real life, drama isn't thrilling it does not make you grow inside. It is long and excruciating and relentless to the point where it just replaces your sense of normalcy. And you smirk at the pretty people with the pretty lives who still believe that _"those kind of stories happen to other people. Fictional, or on the news, or distant relatives."_ Logan smirks at Neptune's finest members whose only concerns are money schemes and sex related who-cheated-on-who gossip. Also, they vaguely remember a young girl bashed in the head around here a few years ago.

Breaks with Veronica and Logan never last and he always comes back to her as if to quench a twisted thirst whithin. She may not actually forgive him but she does love him and that's more than anybody ever did. At least _she_ cared enough to stick around. Besides, who is he to decide he deserves forgiveness? Do you deserve forgiveness when you treated the girl like an all-you-can-eat-buffet, toying with her for the amusement of your crowd? Vodka. Salt. Repeat. Logan knows the answer to this one. It's not a pleasant one.

She won't discuss it and sometimes it seems like that has to be the problem. Why she never lashed out at him he ignores but he knows she always has a right to be pissed. So he lets her. And she loves getting pissed over nothing. Him controlling her, him potentially unfaithful, him ner'do-well-ing with Dick, a bunch of friends and a bunch of bottles. It's never the stuff she should actually be pissed about. Like how his father killed her friend or locked her in a flaming refrigerator. Like him getting all their classmates to turn on her. Like Cassidy raping her at Shelly's party and him helping along the way. Like the body-shots, the GHB he gave Duncan or the fact that Dick is still his best-friend. Nope, she never gets pissed about that.

She has had a free pass from the start and she doesn't even know about it. But since she's Veronica Mars she probably will extort that information from him at some point. Then he will truly be fucked. Not that Logan really wants to discuss any of this which in his book, makes him an accomplice of sorts. Always the accessory, tss, tss.

Maybe he should be grateful for this, because if she had decided to resent him for all that he actually did to her she'd have left him a long time ago. Hell, she would never have tolerated him in the first place.

The first time that she told him it was "okay", in the pool house with her pigtails red lights and red sweater, was the only time he truly bought it. Her smile tasted just a bit like kaluha, just a bit like transgression and he could barely bring himself to believe it. It felt like all of a sudden he was bestowed an enormous responsibility- that of to stand up to an actual standard and it scared the shit out of him. But he believed her in that moment, so he voted for a drink. And she bailed. And he should have known.

His sins aren't the kind to be so easily forgiven. See, there is the apple and there is the tree. He should have been a blues-man. He already likes whiskey.

Yet he will always go back to her, drown by a pesky primal and so very stupid need for everything she stands for. He'll keep on going, knowing she loves him even though she loves him wrong and not blaming her for it– because in all the things he did to her he probably loves her wrong just as much.

Logan figures it's fair: he blew the first punch. So they will get back together, and she will keep on accusing him of everything besides what he actually did, and he will keep on pretending he believes her when she says it's all in the past and he's long been forgiven. It's not, she just needs him as badly as he does. It's not alcohol he should quit it's her. Maybe they should get married. Officialize the whole thing "I Logan Echolls take thee Veronica Mars to be my lawfully wedded victim and executioner for the rest of my life and as God is my witness I am ready to suffer my entire existence alongside your annoying little self. Amen." Or something like that.

There will be other nightmares, and burning showers, other guys he will beat-up and other mid-week benders. Other nightmares for them both. He doesn't care, it feels like he made his bed long ago. Tawdry, tawdry Camelot Motel. The skin in her neck smelled like something sweet and round but dry, dark and rainless and a little acre. It still does he'll bet.

So he beat up Gory without any remorse, and Piz too and now he waits, until someday she knocks at his door. Again.


End file.
